


holy or broken, there is still hallelujah

by thelittlefanpire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Becho, Bellarke, Canon Compliant, Canon Spec, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlefanpire/pseuds/thelittlefanpire
Summary: “He...he thought you were dead, Clarke.”Echo finally looked into Clarke’s eyes with tears filling her own. The truth spilling out in slow drops.There was almost a question forming on her lips that she wanted Clarke to deny. To reassure her that it was all just in her head. That nothing had changed when they had returned to the ground.But Clarke couldn’t speak. She couldn’t give her that reassurance.Bellarke S5 Reunion Angst.





	holy or broken, there is still hallelujah

After Bellamy was shot, they had returned to the village and turned the church into a makeshift hospital as quickly as possible. The rows of pews had been pushed up against the walls and cots had been brought in. Clarke had to use the limited resources they could find in the village to save him and fast. Rusted rain barrels were brought in so they could be filled with boiling water. The candelabras were lit throughout the room and more candles were brought in and placed on the floor.

She had kicked the others out quickly so she could focus on the task of saving him. She worked tirelessly through the early evening and into the night, cleaning and sewing up his wounds, her eyes adjusting to the candlelight.

Clarke sunk down on the pew beside Bellamy when she had done all she could. Bellamy was now asleep on the cot under the stained glass window. His shirt was torn open and bandages were taped to his chest, red continued to seep through no matter how many times she changed the dressings.

It was dark in the sanctuary, only a few candles were left to light the room in the late hour of the night.

Clarke heard her enter before she saw her. After six years, she had gotten used to hearing the most deafening of silences and tiniest of sounds, so Echo’s footsteps vibrated loudly in the abandoned place of worship.

The candles flickered as Echo stepped towards her, but neither woman spoke for several moments. Neither of them had actually spoken to one another since reuniting. 

“We thought you were dead,” she finally whispered. Echo didn’t look at her when she spoke, but down at Bellamy’s sleeping form and then quickly to the broken wooden slats of the floorboard.

 Echo couldn’t look at Bellamy just as much as Clarke couldn’t look away from him.

Clarke was too afraid to speak though. She had spent all her time praying they were alive. That they were coming back to her. She was still holding her breath in case this was all some kind of never-ending nightmare or delusion from another AI.

“His fever should break soon,” Clarke said sliding back into the pew away from Bellamy.

Echo nodded and moved closer to Bellamy’s cot.

“He’s strong. He didn't come all this way for his fight to be over.” She smiled down at him but there was a sadness in her eyes.

“He...he thought you were dead, Clarke.”

 Echo finally looked into Clarke’s eyes with tears filling her own. The truth spilling out in slow drops.

 There was almost a question forming on her lips that she wanted Clarke to deny. To reassure her that it was all just in her head. That nothing had changed when they had returned to the ground. 

But Clarke couldn’t speak. She couldn’t give her that reassurance.

When they all had reunited, Clarke saw Bellamy step away from Echo’s side and walk towards her almost in a trance.

 He had reached for her face first.

 His hands were so warm and gentle as they cradled her cheeks and the pad of his thumb lightly caressed her skin.

 And then his eyes were searching hers, drinking in her every feature.

 She began counting the freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. They were fewer than she remembered in the past. The years that had passed were obvious in how many of his freckles had faded due to his skin being out of the sun for so long.

 His hair was longer and he had a beard that hid the scar above his lip. It made him look older.

 They leaned into one another, foreheads touching and arms embraced. Clarke and Bellamy both tried to breathe in the other's presence as much as possible.

 Bellamy kept whispering over and over, “You’re alive. You’re alive.”

 She couldn’t even speak.

 Clarke had radioed Bellamy every day for six years. He had been her one constant, besides Madi, through all her pain and loneliness.

 And now he was here. He was home.

 To say there hadn’t been bumps along the way in their rekindled rapport would be a lie.

 Bellamy looked after his SpaceKru just as much as Clarke looked after her little Natblida.

 They had butted heads and clashed over many of the decisions that had to be made.

 It had led them to this very night. Bellamy wanted to stop Octavia, but it had turned into an ambush. They were lucky to make it back to the Shallow Village without being followed.

 There was no denying how wonderful it felt to be back with her friends. To see Harper and Monty happy. To see Raven not be in any pain. Even Murphy and Emori with all their trouble. There was also no denying how well Clarke and Bellamy fell back together. Bellamy knew what Clarke was thinking before she spoke a single word and all they had to do was turn and nod to one another before their steps fell into sync. She could read him just as easily as ever, but she didn’t comfort and reassure him the same way she had before.

 That was Echo’s job now.

 It was a subtle thing and Clarke wasn’t even sure if the others knew, but Clarke noticed.

 She noticed when Bellamy would sneak a kiss on Echo’s temple or when Echo would lean into Bellamy’s side at night when they were around the campfire. When they would slowly get up and go into the same tent at the end of the night.

 Clarke could hear when Bellamy was worried about his sister and Echo would whisper in his ear that Octavia would be okay. She could hear them laughing together over breakfast and telling jokes with the others as they tossed berries into each other’s mouth.

 Their time in space had made them comfortable and light. It had made them into a team. It had made them into something Bellamy and Clarke had never been.

 And that was the one thing that shattered Clarke’s heart every time when she would realize to what extent Bellamy and Echo now meant to one another.

 But now Echo stood before her, with a hopelessness written all over her features. There was defeat in the body of the once mighty Azgeda warrior. There was a sadness in the corner of her mouth and a clench in her jaw.

 If their time in space had made them comfortable, it was because they were living in the dark and the shadows of their past. Here, back on the ground, it all had been brought back into the light. Gravity had weighed them down.

 Echo could see it even if Clarke didn’t yet.

 “I wish he loved me the way that he loves you.”

 Clarke scrunches up her face in confusion but Echo just shakes her head and laughs lightly at her.

 How could Bellamy love Clarke when she could clearly see that he was with Echo? How could you call whatever it was between Bellamy and Clarke love?

 Partners. Allies. Friends. Those were always the words Clarke used to describe them over the years.

 Since her feet had hit the hard, unforgiving land of the Earth, Clarke had barely had a moment to breath. But after Praimfaya, when Clarke was all alone, all she had was time.

 And time was cruel.

 She grieved all the ones she had lost. She traced their features in her sketchbook. And she told Madi of their stories. 

But with Bellamy, she never did figure out quite what he meant to her. They never had those types of conversations. There wasn’t time to when they were trying to save their people.

 Echo leaned down and gave Bellamy a kiss on his forehead. Clarke tore her eyes away from the intimate moment.

 "Look after each other,” Echo said and picked up a backpack at the end of Bellamy’s cot, “and may we meet again,” she called into the air, whether it was directed at Clarke or Bellamy, she wasn’t sure. 

She turned and walked out of the church. The door shut and the latch clicked closed causing an echo that lasted long after she had walked out. 

Clarke leaned forward and placed her fingers in Bellamy’s hair, gently kneading the curls on his head. She could feel that his fever was still high.

There was a weight that had settled onto her chest that had to weigh a thousand pounds. It was crushing her. 

The truth was that Clarke never knew how heavy her love was for him until she had to carry it all on her own.

 Until Echo had called it out by name.

That truth began to hit her in waves like the radiation of Praimfaya. Burning the beats of her heart and scorching her soul. 

She loved him. She was in love with him. She always had been.

“I can’t lose him...again,” was all she could utter, it was all she knew, her voice breaking, looking up to the rafters of the church and sending out a prayer to a long forgotten God.

 Bellamy’s fever broke with the sunrise of the next day. Light began to filter in through the stained glass window casting colors of light all about the room and highlighting the dust in the air making a hazy glow.

A shade of blue danced over Clarke’s face.

Bellamy marveled at the woman before him for a moment. There were scars on her face now from the radiation and sunburn on her nose. But he could still see the beauty mark that graced her top lip. She was as breathtaking as ever, just older.

And her hair, it was short, the blunt edges falling under her chin and brushing the back of her neck, Bellamy had an urge to run his fingers through it.

Clarke was sitting in the church pew beside him with her head resting against the wall. Her chest falling and rising in a steady rhythm.

Asleep.

Alive.

Clarke was alive.

Bellamy couldn’t believe it. He had spent the last six years doing everything he could to keep her memory alive. By using his head and his heart like she had told him to do to keep them all alive in space. 

But there was also a guilt there that ate at his gut like the bird from Prometheus’ story.

She had survived and he had left her here. 

Bellamy shook those thoughts from his head and stretched out his arm to gently shake Clarke’s knee to wake her.

“Hey, Princess,” he whispered because his voice was hoarse and his lips were dry.

 She stirred and slowly opened her eyes and then covered her face from the morning light.

 “Hey, Bell—Bellamy. Oh, God,” her voice catches and she starts to sob. She sits up in the pew and places her face in her hands. Bellamy quickly tries to sit up and comfort her but is met with a stinging pain in his chest.

“No, don’t sit up,” she looks up when he winces, and grabs a bowl and strips of white cloth from her side and begins to check his wounds. Sharp twinges rip through him with every sweep of the cloth.

“What the hell happened?” Bellamy groans trying to look around for something. Someone.

“You were shot. With tech, Raven nor I, have ever seen. It wasn’t deep, but the bullet splintered all through your chest,” she says and gives him water to drink from a canteen.

Bellamy’s eyes were still searching the room.

“Echo was here last night, but she left.”

Bellamy relaxes as his memories start flooding back to him. The last thing he could remember was the day he and Echo had finally spoken the truth to one another.

_“You love her.”_

_Bellamy groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face trying to wake himself up. It was past midnight and he had been on watch all night. It was too much for him to deal with now._

_“Echo_ , _let_ _’s not do this right now, please.”_

_“Bellamy, I knew things would change on the ground, but I didn't think it would be because Clarke was still alive.”_

_Bellamy sighs and takes his eyes off the tree line turning around and giving Echo his complete attention._

_“Clarke isn't going to change anything between us.”_

_Echo smiles and places her hand on the side of Bellamy’s face._

_“It doesn't change anything up here, but it changes everything...here.” Her hand slides down to his chest. To Bellamy’s heart._

_His traitorous heart that had sped up at the mention of Clarke’s name. The heart who’s beats thumped loudly in his chest when he first saw her. The heart who cried out whenever they were separated. The heart, who after everything, still loved his princess._

_“There was always a hole in your heart, Bellamy, and I could never fill it. No matter how hard I tried to fight and squeeze in there. It wasn't shaped for me. It belonged to someone else. Someone you thought you lost, but...she’_ _s still alive._ _”_

_They looked at each other in the moonlight and Bellamy knew she was right. He couldn't stop thinking about Clarke since had realized she was still alive._

_“When we reach Polis,”_ Echo continued” I'm going _to stay with my people. Azgeda is my home. And Clarke is yours.”_

_Bellamy wanted to protest, to deny, and to scream how unfair this all was._

_“Don’t banish yourself, Echo.” She laughed humorlessly at him._

_“Don’t punish yourself anymore, Bellamy.”_

It had taken Bellamy three years to forgive Echo for what she had done and even longer to forgive himself for leaving Clarke behind.

 Staring at Clarke now he thinks maybe he never did.

Forgive.

“You left me.”

The blue light dancing on Clarke’s face was nothing compared to the icy blue of her eyes. Bellamy could feel them piercing into the depths of his soul.

 “Clarke, I am so sorry,” Bellamy wishes he could move because he would fall right to his knees and beg if he could.

 Beg time to reverse so he could redo the day of Praimfaya. Beg for Clarke to forgive him. Beg and beg and beg.

 Clarke smiles and the icy blue of her eyes melts a little.

“I was so lonely here without you. But I’m so tired, Bellamy. I’m so tired of feeling that way.”

Bellamy takes the cloth from her hands and clutches it to his chest, bracing himself so he can sit up. He takes hold of Clarke’s arms, she pulls him up, and he brings her to him into an embrace.

 “I don't want to feel that way anymore, but I’m too scared to feel anything else,” Clarke whispers through tears.

 "Clarke, I...” Bellamy starts but Clarke tries to stop him.

 “No, Bellamy, you don’t have to—” He cuts her off this time.

 “Let me say this before someone comes barging through those doors telling us the world is ending again. I don’t want to miss my chance to say the one thing I should say to you at the end of the world.”

 Clarke takes a deep breath and untangles herself from Bellamy. She stands in front of him as he sits up straight on the cot.

The sun had fully risen at this point. A bright light was filling the sanctuary. Bellamy glanced around at all the tapestry and colorful strips of cloth filling the walls and ceiling. It was a kaleidoscope of color and caused a surge of emotions within him. 

“The last time I saw you, you were going to the tower. You were going to save us. And that’s all you ever do, Clarke. Save your people.”

 “I only do what I have to do.” 

“I know. You always use your head. It’s how you’ve survived. But life should be about more than just surviving.” 

“There’s too much at stake,” Clarke shakes her head and Bellamy moves his hands on either side of her face.

“There’s always going to be incredibly high stakes, Clarke. This is Earth. But if we survive, what are you going to have at the end of it all? I choose this.” He gestures between them and the electricity in the air is palpable now. 

“You’ve got to use your heart, too,” he tells her.

“I’ve got you for that.” She smirks at him.

Bellamy moves his hands up into her hair and leans forward. Like magnets or planets caught in each other’s orbit, they move closer until their lips are touching. 

Clarke’s tongue might have been frozen the last twelve hours, but it was slowly coming to life as it met Bellamy’s. Their kiss was like a prayer, slow and full of purpose.

And she let it say all the things she couldn't. Not to Echo. Not to Bellamy. Not even to herself.

_I am broken, but I need you. I forgive you because we are holy. I love you. I love you. I love you._

Bellamy could hear his heart calling out to Clarke’s and all its broken pieces rushing back together. The hole in his heart was filling up like an hourglass the more Clarke poured into him. 

There was a banging at the church doors that tears them apart. Clarke jumps back against the wall of the church and Bellamy looks down at the wounds on his chest quickly before anyone can enter the room.

It’s Murphy.

 “Damn, you made it. We made bets on if you would survive or not.” Murphy strides into the room oblivious to the fact that the world had just turned on its axis for Clarke and Bellamy.

 “What is it, Murphy?” Bellamy asks his voice rough.

“They radioed and they’re on their way. We need a plan.”

Bellamy looks at Clarke. 

“Together,” he says.

“Together,” she replies. 

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first thing I've written, completed, and published in seven years. the bulk of it was written from two to six o'clock in the freaking morning. inspired by that echo/clarke interaction jroth posted on his twitter. title comes from Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. I'd love to know your favorite lines and what you thought! thanks for reading!


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